


New Year, New Me

by SlytherinBunBun



Series: Fake News [2]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinBunBun/pseuds/SlytherinBunBun
Summary: One thing was for sure; Alex couldn't have guessed the dynamics of the team he decided to join. Part II/II
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Fake News [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046623
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	New Year, New Me

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of the second and final part of the Fake News series, as always inspired by victoryhonorfame's wonderful prompt for the fic exchange! Sorry it took so long, this first part has been ready for some time but wasn't posted. I definitely know what is to come, so hopefully it won't be as long of a wait.
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!

**December**

Yassen wasted no time before starting to train him, immediately after breakfast. Through the door that Alex had spied next to the stairs, he led the young man to the underground level that turned out to be a fully equipped gym, complete with an open area fit for combat.

Alex gave it his all, under the circumstances, but Yassen still bested him easily. The moment Alex began to think they were evenly matched, Yassen would feign or pull a move that proved just how superior he was. His goal wasn’t to humiliate his newest recruit, though, and he proved a patient, if strict, instructor in the aftermath. Alex found himself quite enthralled by the tips and tricks Yassen imparted, clearly consolidated through brutal experience.

They trained well into the afternoon, until Yassen finally called it a day. Alex was completely exhausted and dreamed of the crisp sheets of the bed he wanted to climb into after a relaxing shower. Yassen had to be tired as well, but on the outside he looked just as fresh he had that morning.

The relentless workout had another effect also, which Alex didn’t notice until he lowered his stiff body on the bed afterwards and didn’t have the energy to expend on overthinking his situation; the awful truth of his exposition was constant but was starting to feel like an old wound instead of a fresh one. The teen knew that were he to ponder more on it, the panic would start once more, so he decided to take advantage of the sleepiness that overcame him.

The alarm clock on the nightstand informed him that he had slept for three hours when his empty stomach woke him up. He was pulling on a black t-shirt when a soft knock sounded on the door.

“What is it?” he called. The door opened promptly and Alex saw Yassen standing on the doorstep, holding a tray with some sandwiches, bananas, and a glass of water.

“I thought you might be hungry,” said Yassen, walking past Alex to place the tray on the bed. “Have you settled in all right?”

Alex nodded and Yassen made to leave again. “Umm...” Alex stumbled for words. “You don’t need to go.”

Yassen raised an eyebrow. Alex sat on the bed and awkwardly took on of the sandwiches. While he munched on it, the Russian took a seat at the edge of the bed and took a look around. Alex thought that seemed weirdly awkward; it was his house, after all.

“Are you going to tell me?” asked the teenager. Yassen stared at him and waited. “How you survived?”

At this, Yassen almost sighed. “Your people had me, you know. They captured me after Air Force One and kept me in one of their secure facilities.”

Alex hesitated. “Blunt never said, although I shouldn’t be surprised. If I’d known...” He didn’t know why he added that last bit. If he had known, what? What could he have done? What would he have done?

Mercifully, Yassen didn’t take him up on that. “Well, you know I was shot. For a time, I was completely under and had no idea where I was or who I was with. If Blunt had questioned me then, I might have told him everything. As things stand, I was in no position to speak at all. So... he did it later, after I’d recovered.” Yassen was quiet for a few moments. Alex realized he didn’t intend to continue.

“What did he do?” he prodded the older man.

“There’s not many things to do if you want to convince someone to talk. I had no family, no ties for which I cared about... Physical torture was the only thing left.”

Alex’s fingers curled up in a fist. Rationally, he knew Yassen was an assassin and a terrorist operative. He’d been trained for that and joined that line of work fully aware that it was a possibility. Still, his rage at Blunt and Jones, always at a simmer and heavily mixed with betrayal from the events of the past couple of days, flared at Yassen’s revelation.  
Blunt could have said something, Yassen was John Rider’s pupil for God’s sake! Alex would have wanted to talk to him, ask him about his dad, maybe...

Maybe that’s what Blunt had been afraid of.

Alex leaned over and took Yassen’s hand. He felt the Russian stiffen but he made no movement. “We’re both out. We got away from him.”

Yassen nodded slowly. “I did. With Rudolph’s help. SCORPIA didn’t bother, either they thought me dead or they pretended to. Dealing with you turned out to be more than a handful, anyway. When Rudolph got me out, the organization was a mess. We decided to start afresh.”

“So you don’t keep any ties with them?”

Yassen shook his head. “None other than the occasional bit of gossip. You should know,” he said, turning to face him, “it was probably them.” Alex raised an eyebrow questioningly. “The initial attack, the car crash. I found out... just before it happened. If I’d known earlier, I would have warned you, got you away. As it was, you had to do that yourself.”

This reminded Alex of something. “Why was Rudolph watching me?”

Yassen nodded. “When I got away from MI6 and caught up to the news about you and SCORPIA and the fact that you were still spying, I got... I sent you to SCORPIA thinking it would help. It didn’t, it made things worse and strengthened the hold Blunt had on you. I really did it for the best, Alex, I want you to believe that at least.”

“I never thought the opposite,” he assured the assassin, and strangely that was true.

Yassen nodded and continued. “Well, I still did. Want to get you out, I mean. But it took time to get into shape again, establish our connections, get a start on the business end of things, and once we were ready, you had already made a name for yourself, not the teen prodigy anymore, but a seasoned spy with a fearsome reputation. That’s too late to get out, Alex. At least that’s what I believe. Getting you away from Blunt’s grasp was the next best thing.”

Alex nodded. “I should thank you, I guess.”

A slight smile adorned Yassen’s features while he said jokingly, “Well, don’t thank me just yet.”

* * *

**January**

It turned out that the reason Yassen hadn’t wanted any thanks that first night was because the time that followed was absolutely brutal. Alex hadn’t gone through formal training with the MI6, just brush-up courses now and then, since Blunt didn’t want to spare him from the field for too long, but Yassen’s idea of training more than rivalled Alex’s time at Malagosto. Waking up at five every morning, the day included, without exception, a five-kilometer run, a workout at the gym, sparring with Yassen, or Rudolph, or both, and in the physical exhaustion of the aftermath, long lectures on tactics, weapons, or some sort of theory. Each night saw Alex falling like a log on his bed for a solid six hours of sleep, apart from the times when he woke up from some nightmare, which were fewer than he would have expected, although still steadily occurrent.

Rudolph’s attitude towards Alex hadn’t got any better in the time that he had been there. He did as Yassen asked and trained with him, taught him about explosives, which apparently was his field, filled him in on job details and whatnot, but the rest of the time he ignored him or, worse, made ironic comments. Alex had caught Yassen glaring at the younger man on those occasions, but Rudolph didn’t seem that unnerved by it. Alex ignored him in return, but there had been minor altercations usually expressed through more than necessarily violent combat sessions.

In Alex’s book, however, the most striking thing in his new life thus far wasn’t any of the training he received or any of the jobs he had been told about. Instead, it was something he had witnessed two weeks into his stay, one fateful night when he had woken up from a nightmare, covered in sweat.

* * *

_When his heartbeat and his breathing finally slowed down, he could make out strange noises which, he realized, had not been infrequent. Something about not wanting to fall back asleep and convincing himself he absolutely had to go get a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs made him get up from the bed and go out into the corridor. Vertical rays of light fell on the wall. Apparently, Rudolph had forgotten to close his door and was still awake. Alex’s curiosity got the best of him and led him to the opening._

_In the soft light, he realized Rudolph was more than awake. In fact, it wasn’t one, but two people on the bed, and even if the blond hair hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the second figure couldn’t possibly have been anyone but Yassen. Said blond hair were clearly visible from Alex’s position, directly in front of Rudolph’s crotch place. The muscled back, the peach-shaped arse, and the long, pale, toned legs, were also on display for the teen, who recognized the position as the famous ‘69’._

_Although a voice in his head nudged him to get away, get back to his room, or at least make a subtle noise in the corridor indicating he was awake so that the two men bothered to close the door, his feet were rooted in place and his eyes barely blinked, as if that could alert the lovers to the presence a voyeur. That didn’t happen, however, and the scene continued to play out in front of Alex, accompanied by low moans and groans, hands on hips, grips visibly tightening, and finally, after God knew how long, the orgasm first of the younger, then of the older man._

_That roused Alex from where he stood mesmerized and he managed to keep his mind together to exploit the momentary lack of awareness of the two trained assassins and get back to his room. He closed his door as noiselessly as he could and fell on the bed, hand reaching for his dick before he was even aware of it._   
_The incident had left him with a raging hard on and it didn’t take more than a couple of pulls or three to release. The strength of his orgasm left him feeling as if he could sink into the mattress and sleep claimed him before he could even process it._

* * *

Alex still had no idea whether Yassen and Rudolph were aware that he had seen them that night. If they did, they never let on. Alex himself didn’t know what to make of it. On the one hand, his face threatened to light up with shame at the thought of it and the possibility of bringing it up, but on the other, he was also angry about not being told in the first place. Equal partners, my arse.

The incident did make Alex view the two under a different light, though. Initially, he had been surprised at Rudolph’s familiarity and even cheek with a man who tended to inspire bitter fear in the hearts of more people. Although Yassen wasn’t as cold as Alex would have guessed, he remained a serious, detached, and for the most part humourless person. Rudolph seemed to take all that in stride and kept on with his quips, ironies, and jokes.

Those intensified, in Alex’s opinion, whenever Rudolph came back from an assignment. As it turned out, explosives and disguises were two specializations that were easily combined and surprisingly sought after, maybe even more so than assassinations. Sabotage seemed to be one of SCORPIA’s specialties that still held strong. As a result, Rudolph would often be away from the Switzerland house that Alex had come to consider their headquarters, and he would be gone for anything between a day and a week. Following his longer absences, he would come back seemingly in the mood for quarrels.

Rudolph’s more frequent absences made it so Alex spent more time training with Yassen. One of those days when the man was away, Yassen woke Alex up bright and early, which was not one of his habits. Looking at the clock, Alex saw that it was four in the morning, and looked at the assassin through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Why on earth are you up? Why are you waking me up?” he inquired.

“We are heading out. Shooting practice. It cannot be done in the house.”

Alex fell back on the cushions with a sigh. Yassen exited the room and the teen knew he had about ten minutes before he barged in again and dragged Alex out by force.  
Outside the house was parked a grey Mini Cooper to which Yassen tossed Alex the keys. Pleasantly surprised at being allowed to drive, Alex got inside and briefly familiarized himself with the controls. Yassen gave him instructions to get to the main road and a little while later they were heading out of the city to the countryside.

They had been driving on the freeway for nearly an hour when Yassen pointed out an exit. Taking it, they were led to a side road that ran along the freeway for a bit and then drifted off towards a wooded area. Alex parked the car next to the road where Yassen told him to and they got out. The assassin took a large bag out of the trunk and gave it to Alex to carry.

He followed the Russian through the forest until they were far out of sight from the road. Then Yassen stopped and motioned for Alex to lay down the bag. Opening it, he first took out a handgun and gave it to Alex. He recognized it as a .45 caliber Glock.

“Strip it down,” Yassen ordered. Alex did so. It took him more than usual, but he suspected that even his record time would not have been enough for Yassen. When he finished, he looked up to find the Russian eyeing him speculatively. “Have you ever shot with it?”

“Not in a long time,” replied Alex. “I trained with it a bit at Malagosto.”

“Try to hit that,” instructed the older man, pointing at a tree some way ahead of them. It looked around 30 metres away. “The spot on the trunk between the two branches,” Yassen specified. “Empty the round.”

Alex raised the gun and took his time aiming. He prepared himself for kickback as much as he could given the unfamiliarity of the gun. Finally, he started shooting without pause until the whole round was done.

When it was over, Yassen left Alex’s side to go examine the makeshift target. Alex followed. He had made the center of the target, but not with every shot. He suspected the first ones had been off.

Finally, Yassen have the verdict. “Again.”

* * *

After more than two hours straight of shooting, both of Alex’s shoulders were stiff and his hands were nearly trembling. Finally, Yassen signaled the end of the practice session and the teen didn’t manage to hold back the relieved breath that escaped him. Of course, the older assassin made him clean meticulously every handgun and rifle they had used, pointing out everything that wasn’t up to par, but after the theories that had been drilled in him in the past few weeks, those were few.

When he was done, he looked up to see that Yassen had taken out what looked like a picnic basket from his backpack.

“I thought that it’d be best to have something to eat here, instead of going to town or back home,” he explained. At that moment, Alex’s stomach growled, so he didn’t bother saying how much he appreciated the unexpected offer of food.

They sat on a tree stump which was barely big enough for the both of them, and Yassen took out sandwiches from the basket, and a bottle of wine.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

Yassen shrugged. “The weapons are safely packed away and it’s not like you’re going to drink too much to drive.”

“I never considered you for a wine type of guy,” Alex commented. “I thought you’d prefer vodka.”

“I do,” said Yassen. “But it’s quite heavy for this time of day. Have a tad too much and you’re going to be sleeping till the evening.”

While he was saying this, he poured wine into two plastic cups and handed one to Alex. They clinked them and took a sip. Alex found the red to be quite tasty. He took a bite from the sandwich as well.

“Have you noticed?” he said to Yassen, who looked at him inquiringly. “Sandwiches always taste better when someone else makes them.”

“Can’t say I have,” replied the Russian. It was probably not many people that had offered Yassen a sandwich in the past. “Is that your way of saying you like it?”

“Obviously.”

They munched for a little while and drank a little bit more. Yassen poured himself another cup but didn’t offer Alex any.

“You’re driving,” he said in response to Alex’s glance.

“Does that mean shotgun gets to be inebriated?”

Yassen barked out a laugh. “Two glasses of wine would hardly make me inebriated, Alex,” he replied. “You can try, if you want.”

“Try what?”

“See if you can take me down when I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I can have a third one, to make things easier.”

“You don’t need to,” said Alex, feeling his face flush.

“Come on, don’t be a spoilsport,” probed Yassen, uncharacteristically. “As Rudolph would say,” he added as an afterthought.

Alex didn’t know what overcame him, but all his thoughts on that night’s incident resurfaced and he blurted out, “What exactly is your relationship with Rudolph?”

Yassen seemed to hesitate for a moment. “As I’ve told you, we are both SCORPIA-trained. And we were partnered together a lot for operations.”

“You mentioned he got you away from MI6. Did SCORPIA order that?”

Yassen shook his head slowly. “No. It was him alone, he did it out of... loyalty, I guess. Perhaps he did it because he didn’t think he could survive on his own.”

“Doesn’t seem the type. He always looks sure of himself. And he’s very capable,” commented Alex.

“He is one of the best-trained operatives I have worked with,” said Yassen diplomatically.

“Are you sure he’s just that?” probed Alex. Yassen turned to face him, which wasn’t easy the way they were seated close to each other.

“What are you getting at, Alex? Speak clearly,” demanded the assassin.

It was Alex’s turn to hesitate, but he had broken the subject and getting through with it might make the awkwardness worth it at least.

“I saw you. One night. In his room,” he blurted. Yassen went quiet, but he didn’t look as put out as Alex would have expected.

“I know you’re young, Alex, and maybe that seems... strange to you, perhaps? But people have needs. And in our line of work, there aren’t many outlets for this. It doesn’t have to involve feelings.”

“So you aren’t together?” Alex clarified, inwardly shocked at himself for his nerve.

“There’s no such thing as ‘together’ with us. It is reckless to have more than a purely physical relationship with someone. Innocent people are put in danger, as you very well know.” Something in Alex’s chest tightened at the thought of Jack, and Tom, and even his parents. “And between people like us... true feelings can never be. We are too paranoid for that.”

Alex looked up and saw Yassen still staring at him, blue eyes searching his face. He’d never had the opportunity to study the older man at such close quarters for long. He wondered whether the assassin’s words meant that one shouldn’t have feelings or that he didn’t have feelings at all. The storm in his eyes betrayed the former.

Inexplicably, he felt himself leaning forwards, as if gravity was pulling him not towards the Earth, but towards Yassen. Just when he thought he would crash ridiculously on the other man and that he should really hold on to something, warm lips met his and everything around him faded.

Soon, it wasn’t just his lips connecting him to Yassen. One of the man’s hands folded around his neck and Alex fought back the instinct that whispered it was too dangerous to give someone like Yassen Gregorovich free reign over such a tender spot. Another hand held on to his waist, at first outside and then inside his jacket, and the warm intimacy emanating from it allowed Alex to lose himself in what felt like his first kiss but wasn’t.

* * *

When they got back, Rudolph was waiting for them.

“Where were you?” he asked airily.

“I took Alex for some shooting in the woods,” replied Yassen, not facing his partner, busy taking out the guns and rifles from the bags and laying them out on the dining table.

“We should practise shooting together, Alex,” said Rudolph, looking at the teen. “Is he any good, Yassen?”

“For being out practice, he is acceptable,” replied the Russian diplomatically. “Now help me clean these.”

It wasn’t supposed to be an order but Alex noticed Rudolph’s hands curl into fists for a brief moment, before he got up and approached Yassen. Together, they set about preparing all the guns for storage. Alex stood awkwardly for a moment, before Yassen instructed, “Go get some rest, Alex. You must be tired.”

He really was, his head was a mess, and so he didn’t waste anytime before heading upstairs. In his bed, he pondered on the events of the day, or rather, the bits he remembered that weren’t clouded by the shadow of the kiss. He’d driven like a zombie back to the apartment, and he and Yassen hadn’t talked much. He couldn’t explain his behaviour, and for the love of him he couldn’t remember who it had been that had initiated the kiss; the split seconds that preceded it seemed drug-induced hazy.

He knew he wasn’t drugged, though, and that he should really think about it more, and try to make sense of it, but sleep claimed him before he could manage it.

He woke up at the sound of the door opening. Opening his eyes and turning around to face the intruder at lightning speed, he noticed that the room was in darkness. What little light came from the corridor helped him recognize Yassen’s silhouette, but he didn’t relax his stance; he had no idea what the man was doing there and his training had apparently taken over.

Yassen closed the door noiselessly and moved slowly and carefully towards him, clearly aware of his defensiveness and of how not to trigger a violent reaction. When he was finally right in front of him, he grabbed both his hands in a strong hold, not hurting him just yet, but with the threat ominously present.

After a few moments, Alex let out a breath and slumped a bit.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

Instead of a whisper, Yassen leaned a few inches forward and kissed him. Alex felt himself kissing the other man back, letting his mouth fall open when Yassen’s tongue touched his lips. In the back of his mind, something seemed to warn him against it, but with the lust that Yassen radiated with his tongue, and his hands, and his entire body covering every inch of Alex’s, the teen felt unable to resist.

A tiny push was enough to send his body, which had been practically plastered on Yassen’s and entirely dependent on him for support, splay out on the bed. Immediately, the Russian was on top of him, continuing to kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck, with increasing ferocity.

Somehow, the second that it crossed his mind to undress, Yassen almost tore his t-shirt, as well as his head, in the process of taking it off him. Once Alex’s torso was exposed, the assassin paused for an eerie second and took in the sight hungrily. Then, like a predator who had caught his prey and was prepared to feast on it, he attacked every inch of the pale flesh, kissing, licking, biting. It seemed to take forever and a day for him to reach the place Alex feared and desired the most. Yassen grazed the outline of Alex’s erection with the back of his hands over the sweatpants he wore in bed. The next moment, his fingers had curled into the waistband and he was pulling it down, over Alex’s thighs, and knees, until it was off and lying on the floor, followed by his boxers.

Yassen took advantage of the small pause in the action to take off his own clothes as well, and finally, finally, bare skin touched bare skin and Alex couldn’t help shivering. Before he’d had his fill of the sensation of having the entirety of the Russian’s naked body rub against his own, strong hands grabbed him from the hips and turned him around until he was lying belly-down. One of those same hands smacked his arse, not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to startle him. The most shocking part came when he felt a finger inching towards his hole, however, and before he knew it, it had entered him.

He was sure his pained gasp could not have gone unnoticed, but Yassen seemed too consumed by the act to stop, or care. A second finger joined the first a little while later, and the two fingers spread him open for some time, until they felt less like a foreign presence, although the stinging didn’t lessen.

The unpredictability of the situation made Alex’s fear for what was to come even greater, and indeed, it didn’t take long before he felt Yassen’s cock between his arsecheeks. He hadn’t even managed to get a good look at it, but even unsure of its length, Alex could feel that it was wide. Suddenly fingers were in his mouth and he realized what Yassen intended for him to do. He licked at the fingers and summoned every bit of spit he could, knowing it was his best chance at easing the other man’s way in.

Yassen entered without further warning and Alex couldn’t help the painful groan that escaped him. The sting and pain seemed almost unbearable, but at the same time the knowledge that it was Yassen doing this, Yassen inside him, Yassen wanting him, displaying such careless lust, made something in his stomach clench and after a few of the older man’s pistoning movements, he found that he could just barely ignore the sting. He felt his own dick harden and his moans and gasps that were muffled by the sheets were alternately from pain and pleasure. Behind him, he could hear Yassen’s own noises, quiet but definitely present, and his breath increasingly quickening.

The man’s orgasm didn’t come as unexpectedly as the rest of the act had been. Taking short, quick breaths, Yassen slumped over Alex, heads next to each other, and the teen could almost taste the man’s sweat. Once his breath became normal again, Yassen grunted, grabbed Alex, more carefully this time, and turned him on his side, his limp cock still in. The Russian’s hand found Alex’s half-hard dick and pumped it consistently into a full erection. Alex’s head was suddenly flooded with the image of Yassen and Rudolph in the sixty-nine position, and the various made-up images that he’d wanked to in the past few weeks. It didn’t take long before he too let out a sharp moan and spilled all over Yassen’s hand the sheets.

Falling back into the assassin’s arms, breathing heavily, he felt strong arms wrap around him, this time with incredible tenderness.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered.

“What?” said Alex, thinking he’d misheard.

“I was too tough, I know. I couldn’t help it, I... I didn’t want this, Alex,” confessed Yassen.

Alex turned around. “You didn’t want this?” he asked incredulously.

The man’s eyes widened. “No! That’s not what I meant, little one, not at all!” For a split second, a panicked look had appeared on the Russian’s features. “I meant that... I wanted to make it good for you.”

“It was good,” Alex insisted, falling back into his arms in relief.

A small laugh. “You don’t need to pretend. I know how it can be. It was your first time, no?” Alex hummed. “It shouldn’t be like this. I’m sorry, I should have waited, and I should have been more careful, and slow, and...”

“Yassen,” Alex interrupted. “Stop apologizing.”

“So now you are giving orders, huh?”

Alex could see the man’s raised eyebrow even though he had his back on him. He sighed and settled better into Yassen’s arms, feeling sleep threatening to overtake him again.

“It wasn’t great, Yassen, but it wasn’t bad. You’ll do better next time, right?”

He felt Yassen nod. “This I can promise,” replied the man, holding him tighter as they both gave in to exhaustion.

* * *

The next morning, a groggy Alex woke up to an empty bed, even though the rumpled sheets betrayed Yassen having slept there. Scratching his head and deciding not to process last night's events without a proper cup of tea first, he pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs.

His footsteps echoed and even though the house was never anything but immaculate, he knew instinctively that he was alone. True to expectations, a note was pinned on the box where he kept his teabags.

_Emergency. Nothing to worry about. Back in a few days._   
_Y. and R._

Crumpling the note in his hand, Alex put it in his pocket and absentmindedly put the kettle on. The thoughts in his head were threatening to become a mess and he sat down at the kitchen table, trying to calm himself. A few days wasn't a lot by any means, but the timing was so unbelievably wrong that he couldn't help the millions of doubts that filled his mind.

He heard the ting of the kettle and mechanically poured himself a cup and wiggled the teabag. The familiar warmth in his hands made him almost optimistic about managing to brace through the storm of emotions until Yassen got home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please drop a review on your way out!


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